


Orange Is The New Khaki

by Shipaholic



Category: Death Note, Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Age Difference, Cavity Search, Closeted Character, Eventual Sex, Guard Brutality, Internalized Homophobia, Light goes to jail, Light isn't Kira AU, M/M, Other characters will show up later, Prison AU, Profanity, Tags to be added, Tumblr Prompt, and all of his friends are there, casual nudity, father/son angst, sexual awakening, that I wrote myself but never mind, the least accurate depiction of Japanese prison you're ever going to read, tw: Beyond Birthday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shipaholic/pseuds/Shipaholic
Summary: Instead of picking up the Death Note, Light gets arrested. Least successful Kira ever.





	1. Screwed

**Author's Note:**

> You can probably guess which show inspired this.
> 
> So, about a year ago I posted on Tumblr how I'd like to read a DN prison!AU - not a Kira-in-prison AU, just an AU where everyone's in jail for being law-breaking assholes. And then I wrote it, because I'm too in love with my own clearly-stupid ideas.
> 
> Any resemblance to an actual prison in Japan is wholly accidental and will come as a huge surprise to me if pointed out.

Light Yagami was staring out of the window, wishing for anything to shatter the boredom of yet another day in his life, when the police turned up at the classroom door.

 

Light’s attention had been caught by something dark, like the body of a bird, falling out of the sky. But he quickly forgot about it when the officers put him in handcuffs.

 

Faces lined the windows as their prize student was marched across the yard. Light stepped on something on the way - a notebook? - but his quicksilver brain was frozen in humiliation and rage, like a photograph taken at the wrong moment, and he barely noticed.

 

* * *

 

“Hacking. You cannot be serious.”

 

“It’s a mistake, dad. They must have somehow got the wrong person.”

 

“My _son_ has been arrested for hacking the _NPA_.”

 

“It must be easy to frame someone for hacking. If you’re good enough to get into NPA databases, I’m sure you can plant a false trail to lead back to somebody else.”

 

His dad’s breaths crackled down the line. “Light. I’ve seen some of the evidence they have against you. They’ve been tight-lipped, but I’ve got some idea of what they think you’ve done. They say you’ve regularly hacked into NPA files over the past several years.”

 

“...I don’t know why they think that -”

 

“What the hell have you been playing at.”

 

A pall crept into Light’s cheeks.

 

“...Nothing! Dad, I haven't been playing at anything. Does this allegation sound remotely in character for me? I bet this is someone's idea of a sick prank. Maybe someone at school - some of the kids in computer club are really advanced.”

 

“A prank? Really? Some kid from your school thought it would be a great joke to frame you for hacking the NPA? Why not dump a ton of porn on your computer? Why not hack a college administrations office and change your GPA?”

 

“How should I know? I don't understand some of my classmates at the best of times. Or maybe it's not one of them. I'm just throwing ideas out because I have no clue how or why this has happened.”

 

Light was speaking louder than he intended. He took a couple of breaths to rein himself in. _Stupid. It shouldn't take this much work to manipulate Dad._

 

Dad wasn't saying anything. Light noticed his knuckles were white on the phone receiver. He hadn't felt his grip tighten.

 

“This isn’t an accident, is it. You haven’t been set up.” Dad’s voice was soft and slightly cracked. “This is just you. You did this, and now they’ve caught you.”

 

This was all wrong. Dad was supposed to believe every word he said.

 

“I don’t know what they’ve said to you, Dad, but you have to believe me. I would never compromise the security of the NPA. You know I want to join it after I graduate. As far as I’m concerned, stealing NPA secrets is treason. Why would I do something like that? The police are grasping at straws.”

 

“They told me that you started out hacking my work computer. And then once you’d got everything you were interested in, you moved on to bigger targets. I didn’t understand all of the technical talk, but they seem to think you used my details at the prison to gain the means to break into NPA computers.”

 

Fuck. This couldn't be happening. How could they know this? He hadn't left so much as a crumb of evidence. Who had found him out?

 

“Dad, what are you saying? I didn’t do any of that. They have the wrong person. Why won’t you believe me?”

 

His dad’s exhale stuttered at the end of the line. Light could see him rubbing his face, pushing up his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

 

“Light, I love you, no matter what you’ve done. But I’m disappointed beyond words that you’re lying to me now, when the only thing I want to do is help you. If you think that you can be this disrespectful, then I am done here. I will hang up and let you sort this out on your own.”

 

“Wait!” Light’s voice cracked. “I - I did hack your computer, one time - it was years ago - I just wanted to see if I could do it - when I got in, I left without reading anything. Someone must have figured out I’d done it and they’ve been setting up fake trails to lead back to me ever since, in case they were ever caught -”

 

“Light, _stop_.”

 

Light stuttered into silence.

 

“It comes so easily to you, doesn’t it?” His dad had never sounded so lost. “I can’t trust a word you say… Perhaps I should have never trusted a word you say…”

 

Light clutched the phone tighter. Tears began to leak in fat trails down his face. The policewoman on the other side of the glass glanced over, dispassionate. “Please don’t leave me in here.”

 

Dad must hear him crying. Light heard the gust of breath down the line. “Son… I don’t know… No, of course I won’t. But you’re guilty, Light. Aren’t you? I’ll do everything I can for you, but…”

 

“I’m a good person,” Light whimpered. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. It came back slimy, but he couldn’t care right now. “I need you to know I’m a good person. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I want to go home. I’m scared of what’ll happen to me. Help me, Dad, please please please, I can’t go to jail -”

 

“It’s not that easy, Light…”

 

“Why not? I’ve been here for forty-eight hours - you’re a warden, they have to grant me bail - you just need to pay it and once I’m home we’ll have time to come up with my next move -”

 

“Your bail has been set at ten million yen.”

 

“ _...What?_ ”

 

“This has been building for a long time. You know the police are coming down harder on cyber crime. You hacked a number of major government databases, repeatedly… they could have you up on treason charges.”

 

“But you’re a respected warden! It’ll reflect badly on them!”

 

“You think letting you off lightly because of my position won’t reflect badly on them?” Soichiro roared. Light flinched. “You think I haven’t thought all this through myself? Public opinion is in support of the NPA and of the victims of hacking. The police want to make an example of you, and they’ll have the support to do it.”

 

“No!” Light howled. The policewoman looked over again. Light slammed his free hand against the wall by the handset. “Dad! You can’t let them do this, I haven’t done anything wrong! I didn’t pass on anything I learned from those databases. I was just curious, that’s all - it was for my own amusement - I could have sold secrets, but I didn’t -”

 

“Yagami,” someone barked behind him.

 

Light cringed away from the new voice. His dad made soothing noises down the phone. They cut out abruptly when a guard snatched the receiver away and hung up. Light continued to thrash and wail as they grabbed his arms and put the handcuffs back on.

 

* * *

 

He got a good deal.

 

His crime was nonviolent, and no-one was able to prove he’d passed on any information. He’d committed all his offenses as a minor, although his eighteenth birthday came and went before the sentencing. At the hearings, he stood straight-backed and elegant in the suit his mother had bought him a lifetime ago to wear to the To-oh opening ceremony. A sigh ran around the room when he entered his guilty plea.

 

From there, it was done in a flash. Five years in a medium security facility. He’d be out at twenty-three, still handsome, still a genius.

 

His lawyer shook his hand. She had done her job admirably, and it had helped that she was attractive enough to draw the eyes of the entire court. She and Light had made a good team. Light looked into her eyes and thanked her. She assured him in her solemn voice that this was a good deal.

 

The handcuffs went back on for his final departure from the courthouse. Light had coordinated his cufflinks to match them. When he descended the steps, camera flashes peppered him like gunshot.

 

Dad wasn’t there. It would have looked improprietous. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Light would be seeing him soon.

  
He sat quietly in the police van, staring at his lap for the entire drive.


	2. Day One Year One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning this chapter for cavity search. Prison is unpleasant.

“Yagami, Light.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Step forward, please.”

 

Light did so. The guard - Aizawa, Shuichi, according to his badge - began a brusque pat down. Light kept his face neutral and polite. Getting the guards to like him would be very important going forward.

 

“You will be assigned a set of clothes and a prisoner number. Your personal effects will be taken from you and stored for the duration of your sentence. These will be returned upon your release. Any illegal and/or dangerous items will not be returned.” The slash fell neatly into Aizawa’s speech. He must have had a lot of practice. “You will be required to submit to a full body search, unless you have a valid medical reason why this is impossible. Do you have problems with drugs or alcohol?”

 

“...No.”

 

Aizawa stooped to feel down Light’s inseams. The one good thing about the pat down was that it was aggressively non-sexual. Aizawa had the same bored air of a doctor performing his fiftieth colonoscopy.

 

“Matsuda over there will itemise your possessions. You may be permitted to keep some items, for example toiletries, provided they pass staff checks. This is not a guarantee. Basic necessities will be provided by prison staff.”

 

Light said, “Thank you.”

 

Politeness apparently rolled right off Aizawa. He got to his feet with a grunt. “Matsuda, over to you.”

 

Light looked over at the person who would lock up his sparse belongings for the next five years. Matsuda, Touta, was young and nervous-looking. He gave Light a little wave. Aizawa rolled his eyes.

 

“Hello, inmate. Er. Just a second, I’ll get the clipboard.” Matsuda ducked behind his station and retrieved a few items. “Right, let’s see what you have!”

 

Light had very little on him, besides his suit. Most of it went straight into a cardboard box, lost to him for the next half-decade. In the end, he got back his toothbrush, and an instruction to go with Aizawa to receive his new clothes.

 

He’d been dreading this part - exchanging his clothes for five years of prison scrubs. Light let his shoulders slump. Matsuda’s brown eyes shone with sympathy. He was obviously too soft for this job, and would be absolutely ideal to befriend. Light thanked him before Aizawa steered him away.

 

* * *

 

There was one other thing to get through before he was taken to his cell. This was the part Light had tried very hard not to think about.

 

“You appear to be in good health.” The doctor was a burly American, Rester, Anthony. His stethoscope was a cold, heavy disc pressed to Light’s chest. “Heartbeat is a little fast. That’s normal - probably just nerves. Are you experiencing any strong feelings of sadness, hopelessness or stress?”

 

 _Yes, I’m in prison, you idiot._ “Naturally I have some of those feelings, but probably no more than you’d expect.”

 

“That’s good. Medical services are available for prisoners experiencing depression, anxiety or other mental health issues.” Dr. Rester straightened up. The physical exam so far had been the standard checks. Light hadn’t been required to do more than remove his shirt. That wouldn’t last long. “Before you are taken to your cell, a guard will perform a full body search. This will require you to remove the rest of your clothes. You can put them on the bench with the rest.” And there it was.

 

Dr. Rester nodded at the neat pile that was Light’s suit jacket, shirt and tie. Light had savoured being the best-dressed person in the jailhouse while he still could. He’d stood like a king as he undid his cufflinks, shrugged out of his jacket, loosened the knot of his tie. The effect of taking off his socks and trousers was far less grand. He felt like he was shrinking with each garment he removed.

 

Two guards were at the door to Rester’s office. One of them was a wall, barrel-broad under his starched white shirt. Did they choose their most intimidating employee to do this part?

 

Rester was tidying up, attention elsewhere. Possibly he was pretending not to look, to save Light embarrassment. Light made a point of folding the rest of his clothes with the same exactness as before, smoothing them down and placing his shoes at an exact ninety degree angle to the bench. The large guard was approaching, taking latex gloves from the doctor, snapping them on. The other followed with a pocket torch. Light turned and straightened. He wouldn’t bely the creeping of his flesh, starting at the nape of his neck and running all over his body.

 

“Say ‘ah’.” The guard was all business. Light stretched his jaw wide. He was ready for the torch being shone in his mouth, but it was a shock when fingers prodded inside, pulling his lips down to show the gums, checking behind his tongue and teeth. His eyes flicked to the clock above the desk. This would be over in a couple of minutes.

 

The guard withdrew. Light closed his mouth immediately, not quite all the way, not wanting to taste the latex from the gloves. He stiffened as hands cupped his neck and tilted his head forward. The guard checked behind his ears, then raked a hand through Light’s hair, parting it this way and that. The torch light followed his movements, bouncing in the top of Light’s peripheral vision and treating him to the spidery image of the veins in his own eyeballs.

 

The hands and the light withdrew. Light raised his head and blinked hard.

 

The guard said, “Turn around.”

 

Light’s mouth went dry. Slowly, he revolved. He could no longer see the clock. _Surely just a minute more._

 

He was told to lift one foot, then the other. Apparently it was known for prisoners to sneak drugs into prison between their toes. Or attempt it, anyway. Light couldn’t imagine being so lost to a craving he’d take something that had been scraped off a convict’s foot. Some people were pathetic. This entire charade was pathetic. He was the warden’s goddamn son, he was here on horseshit charges, and he’d never so much as smoked a joint in his life. This entire experience was beneath him.

 

“I’m going to ask you now to squat down on the ground and cough three times. Leave pauses between each cough.”

 

Light shakily breathed in and out. _Fuck you, fuck you._

 

“Do you understand?”

 

Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground. He gave a sharp, clear cough. Paused. Again. Paused. Again.

 

“You may stand. We’re going to do an internal check for contraband. Lean forwards against the doctor’s table.”

 

There were faint tremors in the backs of his hands as he splayed them on the table. His arms kept going taut, as if his body was trying to make a fist. He curled over the table, braced on his elbows, arms locked so he could not betray himself with the explosion of violence coiling inside him.

 

“You’ll need to spread your legs and bend your knees slightly.”

 

He knew they’d ask him to do that. Hearing it said aloud was worse.

 

“Now hold your buttocks apart so we can see inside.”

 

Light’s ears rang. This was happening to him. His breaths were deafening in his head. Anger rose like a fist round the throat while he did as they asked. He could murder everyone in this room and feel nothing.

 

The torch flicked on. A bottle cap snapped. There was a crinkling sound of some substance being rubbed between gloved hands. Light counted seconds. He had an excellent internal clock.

 

Silence.

 

How long did it take to flash a torch up someone’s arse? Christ.

 

The torch clicked off. Footsteps shuffled, rearranging behind him. Light inhaled, letting air flow past the knot of rage in his throat. He managed to fill his lungs before the first press of a cold, slippery finger. He pushed the air out as the guard pushed in. It was easier like this. He was proud that he could still think in this situation.

 

Not squirming with a finger fully seated in him was, humiliatingly, difficult. The guard pressed all around in search of whatever prisoners routinely shoved up there. The pressure was not painful, but something worse, as if he’d been turned inside out and the soft, untouchable parts of himself were exposed for the first time. This was, technically, the closest he’d come to sex. Light had always expected to hate it, in a dispassionate sort of way.

 

In total, the forty longest seconds of his life passed before he felt the finger retreat. Light straightened up and placed his hands back on the table, still facing away. He was tingling, cold and unpleasantly slippery. He wanted to cover up, but turning around would mean showing his face, and he didn’t feel human at that moment.

 

“The search is completed. You may put these on.”

 

The second guard dumped a small pile of clothing on the end of the table. Bright orange. Fantastic.

 

“Once you are dressed, you will be taken for a shower and then shown to your cell.”

 

Light wasn’t really in the mood to be looked at naked any more. Nor did he want the remains of what had just been done still inside him. It was tough to know how to feel.

 

He got dressed with his back to them. Once he was done, somebody gripped his arms to turn him around. Light jumped and had to snap his jaw closed around a shout. They wanted to put the handcuffs back on.

 

He gave his suit a goodbye glance as he was marched past. _See you in five years._

 

* * *

 

The soap they’d given him was crap, but Light supposed he felt clean enough.

 

The cuffs went back on as soon as he was out of the shower, and stayed on all the way up to his cell block. When they entered the corridor, Light swallowed.

 

Each cell was exposed. Rows of bars stretched into the distance. Behind them, all was visible. Light could see the beds, toilets and sinks in every cell, every prisoner’s meagre possessions in piles in the corners. And the prisoners themselves, misshapen in the shadows and their dun-coloured uniforms. Only poor lighting would shield a person from total non-privacy.

 

Light didn’t falter, although he still got an unnecessary prod in the back from the shorter guard. He kept his gaze level as he walked up the corridor. In his peripheral vision, he took in as much as he could. The corridor was narrow. Narrow enough for someone to grab at him through the bars. Light shivered. No, that was paranoia talking. Just fear of a new place.

 

He could tell most of the inmates who weren’t taking a nap had stopped whatever they were doing and were watching him pass. A couple were ignoring him, and someone was unconcernedly taking a shit. Light hoped his cell was nowhere near that guy.

 

A grip of his shoulder told him he’d arrived. Light’s pulse picked up. He peered through the bars as one guard unlocked the door, the other his cuffs. The room looked like the inside of an old gym locker. It was where unpleasant things went to be forgotten. It contained one bunk bed, a minute clothes rack with two coat hangers on it, a toilet and sink, chair, and a tiny table that was presumably for the odd personal possession. It was bare at the moment. There was no sign of occupation, in spite of the bunk bed indicating he was expected to share.

 

His guards led him into the cell and departed, locking him in. The tall one said, “It’s lights out in an hour. You’ll be shown around tomorrow.”

 

Light made himself look up at the man’s face to thank him. He received no acknowledgement in return. The man’s face was blank and smooth, no flicker in the eyes indicating what he had done to Light in the doctor’s office. It was clearly just a job to him. He probably barely took note of it while he was doing it.

 

Light stood in the centre of the room, rubbing his wrists, waiting for the guards’ footsteps to die away. There was maybe a foot or two of empty floor space, and he was using up most of it just standing there. Every item in the cell was bolted to the floor, so there was no way of creating more room. Light let his eyes drift to the cell opposite, a mirror image of his own except for a small stack of books on the table. The bottom bunk contained a person who was snoring and whose body was obscured under the blankets, save the soles of his feet, which were poking out. The other occupant was a man with long dark hair, neatly combed if not very clean. He was sitting in the chair, relaxed, his face mostly turned away from Light. It would be easy to conclude that this man couldn’t care less that someone had moved into the cell opposite him, but Light thought he detected something studied about the man’s pose. He was just slightly too nonchalant. Light would keep an eye on him for now. Maybe it would be advantageous to introduce himself tomorrow, or at some later point.

 

He’d probably stared for long enough. It would be obvious he was casing his fellow prisoners if he didn’t break it up with other activities.

 

There was the question of where to sleep. That didn’t take long to decide. Light remembered years of giving Sayu the top bunk whenever they’d had to share, at their grandparents’ house or at holiday camp, because he was the mature one and she went nuts with excitement at the thought of sleeping a few extra feet off the ground. Secretly, Light agreed with her that the top bunk was plainly better, though not for the reasons she gave. He could read later into the night without the light being blocked by another bed above him. And there was less chance of hitting his head if he sat up without thinking. And, well. If he was going to do reconnaissance of this corridor, it probably would help to be a few extra feet off the ground. _Fine. You win this point, Sayu._

 

Light deposited his toothbrush on top of the sink, and pulled the pyjamas off the hanger. They were a featureless blue. For some reason there was another pair of orange scrubs. It was strangely generous to have given him an extra one. It was probably an error. A small piece of luck.

 

Light carried the pyjamas under his arm as he climbed the ladder to the top bunk.

  
He yelled and almost fell off the ladder when a person erupted from under the blankets.


	3. Bottom Bunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO!

Light had just climbed on top of someone. Or a person-sized quantity of dust. Light gripped the ladder tighter, willed his racing heart to slow, and looked again. No, that was the man’s hair.

 

Light stared. He couldn’t stop himself. The man’s hair might at one time have been called a mop, but had since devolved into something indescribable. Mad, roiling, jet-black tangles jutted from his head. Some hair swallowed combs; this hair swallowed hairdressers.

 

Light was so transfixed that it took him a while to realise he was being appraised. Pitch-dark eyes of unnatural size gazed out at him from sunken eye-sockets. The bags under the man’s eyes were almost as dark, and bulged over his cheeks like overripe plums.

 

“I gather you must be my cellmate. I wasn’t told you would be arriving.”

 

The man’s voice was as jarring as the rest of him. He sounded like Light had always imagined the talking animals in his childhood books to sound. Not the stupid little birds and squirrels, but the jaguars and snakes and the things that dwelled in jungles and ponds. His dad had read to him and Sayu whenever he was home in the evenings, and he always did silly, growling voices for these types of animals. A couple of years later, Light had reread them alone and known instinctively how they were meant to sound. Like someone hiding under your bed. Like a purr from something large and invisible in the dark.

 

This man was not large. He had, after all, camouflaged himself successfully as a lump in the blankets before Light climbed on top of him. His skin had a grey tinge, as if he had just emerged from an ice bath. His collarbones protruded from his rail-thin body. Light wondered what the food here was like.

 

He’d left too long a pause. “Yes, I’m your new cellmate. Although I wasn’t warned anyone else was in here. I guess I should have assumed from the other set of clothes on the hanger.”

 

“It was a reasonable assumption on your part.” The man didn’t speak above a murmur, but Light didn’t have to strain to catch anything he said. “There are no personal items visible in this room, and I didn’t announce myself when you came in. Most people would think they’d been given an extra pair of scrubs, rather than that there was a roommate lurking out of sight. Especially if this was their first ever stint in prison.”

 

 _Interesting._ “What makes you sure this is the first time I’ve been to prison?”

 

The man’s eyes seemed to sharpen. He shifted in bed and pulled the blankets further around him. “Well, you appear fairly young. I’d be surprised if you were older than eighteen. That makes it unlikely you’ve been in an adult prison before.”

 

“True. I could have been in juvenile detention centres, though.”

 

“Your reactions to being put in here suggest that this setting is wholly unfamiliar to you, and requires analysis from the foundations up.”

 

_So he was watching me from the beginning. Go on, then._

 

The man quirked a little smile. He pressed the tip of his thumb to his bloodless lip. “And your surname is Yagami, from your I.D. If the son of the warden had been to prison, it lessens the odds he would have risen to his position.”

 

Light’s eyes immediately flicked to the spot on his cellmate’s chest where his own I.D. should have been pinned. It wasn’t. “Yagami isn’t an uncommon name.”

 

“I made a guess. Your apparent class background and accent matches your father. Was I right?”

 

 _Yes. Uncanny._ Light debated whether to lie, or just be coy about the answer. In the split-second he took to think about it, he saw the other man’s smile widen very slightly. _He’s just had it confirmed._

 

Light laughed. His head was reeling a little. “Yes, that’s exactly correct. You’re really good. It’s a shame you’re in here rather than working for the secret service or something.”

 

“Is it, now.” The man's voice dropped to a still softer pitch.

 

Light was positive by now he would need to keep a close eye on his bunkmate. His deductions were unnerving enough without the casual admittance to spying on Light. “Anyway, sorry for climbing on you. I hope I didn’t hurt you?”

 

“Not at all. I hope I didn’t scare you.”

 

“No, I’m fine.” Light paused. “It is strange that this room is so empty, though. You must have a toothbrush at least?”

 

Light’s cellmate plunged a hand back into the blankets and rummaged around. He emerged with an ancient, plain toothbrush.

 

Light held in a grimace. _He keeps that in his bed?_

 

There was a bit of fluff clinging to the bristles. The man absently pulled it away. Light resolved never to ask to borrow anything from his cellmate, no matter how desperate the situation.

 

“So, anyway. I’m afraid to say I have staked out the top bunk as my own already.”

 

Oh, yes. He was still halfway up a ladder. Still partly on someone else’s mattress, in fact. Light shifted back and did an awkward hop onto the floor. “Right, of course. Just so you know, you’re depriving me of a childhood dream. My little sister always took the top bunk.” Being open with small, irrelevant scraps of personal information was a good way to diffuse other people’s desires to pry.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps in the future you will get assigned to another roommate and you can grab it before they do.”

 

Was that a dismissal? It was hard to tell. The drawling monotone fell silent. The man cocooned himself in blankets once again. Even knowing he was there, it was hard to see the lump. Light eyed him and wondered if that was the reason he’d taken the top bunk.

 

“Well, I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said.

 

“Oh, I never sleep.”

 

OK, that was weird. What else was he doing up there? Light turned away so that his odd new acquaintance wouldn’t catch him staring. He retrieved the pyjamas from the floor where he’d dropped them, and climbed into the lower bunk to change.

 

_I guess all his stuff is up there. Which is also incredibly weird, not to mention unhygienic. Maybe he’s a hoarder. He’s plainly very smart, though. I suppose even geniuses can have irrational pathologies. I’m guessing he doesn’t own a hairbrush, whatever else he has stashed up there. I’ll snoop through his things some time when I’m sure I won’t get caught. It’s just a precaution. He could just be a harmless eccentric. If so, it might be an idea to get him on my side._

 

Light ran his fingers through his hair a few times, in the absence of a comb. He settled back on the paper-thin pillow. The mattress was stiff and lumpy. It felt like lying on a sack of tumours.

 

The mattress above his head was mostly exposed. It was held up by the bed frame and some widely spaced metal slats. It sagged through the gaps in a couple of places. Light wondered which bulge was caused by the man not-sleeping above him. Maybe he was too thin to have much effect on its weight.

 

Light had a sudden urge to reach up and trail a finger over the dips in the bed above him, in the hopes of sending a shiver down his cellmate’s spine. He had no idea where the thought came from. He pushed it out of his head.

 

He lay on his back, thoughts and plans running through his mind, for the rest of the hour before lights out. He had a lot of work to do, and he’d need to spend tomorrow familiarising himself with the prison as much as possible.

  
Lights out came. The corridor plunged into subterranean darkness. Light tried to lull himself to sleep by counting his own even breaths. The bed really was uncomfortable. He could hear no breathing from his cellmate. Either he was still awake, as he said, or he was a very quiet sleeper. Light imagined black eyes staring into the blackness of the room, reflecting the night back to itself. He shivered. The image continued to play in his mind until the darkness of it crept up on him and pushed him under the surface of sleep.


	4. The Double

Morning came, and he was still in prison.

 

Light woke up for no reason. The lights were still off. His eyes acclimatised slightly and he picked out outlines of shapes in the room. The bars were solid black stripes like the shadows between trees. The grey quality to the room and a feeling in the air suggested morning rather than the middle of the night. Light stretched out carefully, his bare feet touching the metal bed-frame.

 

His mind was whirring already, ordering the contents of his brain. Things to work out today: facilities for hygiene, and how often he would be permitted to use them. Accessing the telephones and post service. Setting up a subscription for a newspaper - he refused to become ignorant of anything occurring in the outside world. He had researched these topics online, and even got some advice from his lawyer, but every prison was different. He hadn’t dared so far to ask his father. Their conversations had been strained over the last few months.

 

Other things: learning the layout of the prison. Ideally he should have a mental blueprint by the end of today. Learning the names of all of the guards. Authority figures always came around to liking him before long. Light had been brought low and had his dignity and his good name removed from him, but he still had his charm and his calculating mind. Five years? Please. Light could get that down to two. By the time he walked out of here he’d have a new life set up, one as glittering with potential as it was before this entire mess. It probably wouldn’t involve joining the NPA, and that was a bitter loss to accept. But when a dream went up in flames, Light gathered the embers into his palms and charmed something new from the smoke. Nobody was going to see him coming.

 

He lay immobile, insides itching with restlessness, for at least an hour. The darkness retreated inch by inch, granting definition to the objects in his cell - unless it was his eyes adjusting, driving back the darkness with his own will.

 

A blare sounded through the cell block. The lights snapped on and blinded him. Light winced in pain and buried his face in his forearm.

 

Moans and curses slipped out around him as the other inmates woke up. For the most part, they weren’t complaining much. They were used to this. Shuffles and clunks filled the air as a couple hundred men got out of bed and begun their day. Light could look forward to waking up to this every morning for a good, long time.

 

He managed to coordinate his limbs and roll out of bed. Light was a morning person, but it was clearly _very_ early, and his body felt raw with missed sleep. He glanced over at the row of cells opposite, and was greeted by a dick flapping around. The scrawny man it belonged to was taking his time getting dressed. Light screwed up his nose and looked away. This was not the time to accidentally make eye-contact. In fact, best to avoid looking at anyone first thing in the morning as a general rule.

 

He was too tired to care much about modesty himself, but went back to his bunk to get changed anyway. The orange scrubs were genuinely hideous. He pulled them on with a sigh.

 

Fold pyjamas. Put on shoes (blue, slip-on, also ugly as hell). Brush teeth. The water came out with a start and an unappealing splatter. The toothpaste provided was flaky like cement. Spit.

 

Light hadn’t seen his roommate so far today. He spared a glance at the top bunk. Nothing stirred in the sheets. He thought he could make out which lump was a body, but it was still difficult to be certain. Had he not known there was someone there, he would have assumed the bed to be empty.

 

Should he wake him up? It would be a friendly gesture, and he needed allies. But there was something discomforting about the idea of ascending the ladder again. Like he was expected to put himself on the other man’s level, not vice versa. Besides, his cellmate had to be awake - no-one could sleep through that alarm. He was just staying put for his own reasons. Or maybe he was asleep, but he’d start expecting Light to get him up every morning. Well, forget that then. Light turned away and vigorously washed his face in the sink.

 

Before long, another blare rang through the cell block, and a grating clang indicated the door to the exit rolling open. Booted footsteps intruded, as did the rumble of voices giving orders. Light crossed to the bars of the cell to wait to be let out. He counted six guards, all men. Two waited at the far end while the other four moved down the corridor with sets of keys.

 

Light tilted his face down, but eyed them from under his hair. Aizawa was guarding the exit, along with another young guard who was unfamiliar. The second man had blue eyes and a square jaw; he was handsome for a prison employee. Matsuda, yawning into his fist, was one of the group, and the remaining three were all strangers. There was a sallow-faced man with hair parted across his forehead, a short, grumpy-looking man who squinted around as if sensitive to the lighting, and a man with a curling lip who moved through the corridor like he was appraising everything in it for sale. Two by two, prisoners exited their cells and stood outside in silence. Matsuda and the short man counted them off on clipboards.

 

Still no movement from Light’s cellmate. Light frowned. Was he going to get in trouble for this? Perfect, he’d just arrived and he was already having attention drawn to himself. Why wasn’t the man getting up? Was he ill? This had better not be some kind of protest. Light wondered if there was time to - no, they were almost at his cell now.

 

The sneering guard drew level. His face was craggy and large-boned, with a jutting chin and square forehead. His eyes were mostly whites, colourless and slightly protuberant. He took his time selecting the right key, fixing Light with a bored, baleful stare. Light faced the front, the picture of obedience. He knew he could vaporise this toad-like twit with one flick of his eyes, so there was no need to prove it.

 

“Where’s your cellmate?”

 

The guard’s voice was as calculated to offend as the rest of him. It irritated Light’s brain as though on a frequency custom-made for him.

 

“He hasn’t got up,” Light replied. No point covering for him.

 

The guard snorted and unlocked the door. He pushed Light out of the way and marched into the cell. His partner, the man with the sallow skin and the pudding-bowl haircut, was left to watch over Light. Light was sure he caught him rolling his eyes. Excellent - this guard was unpopular. That was good to know. Social dynamics were easy to exploit.

 

“Inmate, step outside,” said the second guard in a tired voice. Ide, Hideki. Light complied. He could clearly hear the conversation occurring over his shoulder.

 

“Inmate, you are supposed to get up with the alarm and report for headcount. Get out of bed now or be dragged out.”

 

The sheets rustled. So he was alive in there. “Apologies. I had some things to take care of. I’m getting up now.”

 

“‘Some things to take care of’? You’re a prisoner, you do your work, shit and sleep. Stop screwing around. I’m writing you up for this.” Stomping feet, and a heavy creaking - the guard was climbing the ladder. There was a grunt, and a soft sound of protest - then a series of thumps and an exclamation of pain. Light’s head whipped around before he could help himself. His cellmate was on the ground. His shock of hair spilled over his pale face; the huge black eyes stared at nothing. The guard was stooped, pulling him to his feet by the wrists.

 

“Higuchi,” Ide said sharply. “We need to hurry this up.”

 

“You can bet I’m hurrying,” the other guard snapped. He yanked his captive over to the clothes rack and thrust the orange jumpsuit into his thin chest. When the prisoner didn’t start changing as quickly as he wanted, Higuchi snatched the clothes out of his hands and started forcibly stripping him.

 

“Inmate, face the front,” Ide said to Light. Light was happy to do as he said. There was a tremor in his body that he had to suppress. The prisoners opposite him were all watching the drama unfold behind his head. Some looked uncomfortable, a few seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the man Light had noticed last night with the sleek long hair was stony-faced, drinking it all in.

 

“Why is there no name-tag on your uniform?”

 

“I mislaid it.”

 

“You - ugh. Just brush your teeth and get outside.”

 

“Can I get dressed first?”

 

“No you fucking can’t. You’re wasting all our time. You want another write-up?”

 

Light felt a cold queasiness in his stomach. His cellmate was being made to do this naked in front of everyone?

 

“My toothbrush is in my bunk. I can retrieve it if you let go of me.”

 

“ _Where?_ Right, I’ve had enough. Just get outside as you are. It’s your own fault you weren’t ready in time.”

 

There were scuffling noises behind him. Light stayed determinedly facing forward. When his roommate was deposited beside him, still naked and clutching his clothes to his chest, Light’s eyes didn’t even flicker.

 

Ide sighed. Higuchi stormed past them and made a big display of jangling the keys to unlock the next cell. Matsuda scurried up with his clipboard. His face was red to the ears. He didn’t look at either prisoner while he made two marks on his sheet.

 

Everyone’s attention was so suitably scattered that Light judged it was safe to sneak a look at his cellmate. The man was quietly untangling his uniform from the fistfuls he’d had to carry outside. He’d angled himself away, so Light could only catch a sliver of gaunt cheek through the matted dark hair. The skin of his back was translucently pale and thin enough to poke holes in. Light picked out all of his ribs and the knobbly column of his spine, but it seemed impolite to drop his gaze any lower, so he stopped there.

 

The next cell along clattered open, and its lone occupant sloped out.

 

It took a moment for Light to realise what he was seeing. A lurch went through him as if he’d missed a step on a staircase.

 

A rat’s nest of black curls topping a thin, grey face. Unnaturally large pupils swimming in the centre of sunken eye-sockets.

 

The exact double of his cellmate had emerged from the next cell.

 

An age passed while Light stared at the pair of them, one clothed, one naked. Nobody else was reacting, and Light wondered in all sincerity if he might be hallucinating. He only abandoned the theory because he had too much control of his own mind for it to play tricks on him.

 

After consideration, the second man was more like a smudged mirror image of his roommate than an exact copy. The whites of his eyes were bloody, red and sore-looking, and they rolled wildly around the corridor, nothing like the thousand-yard gaze of Light’s cellmate. His nose was blunter and the chin less sharp. That aside, the resemblance was unreal. Light tried to catch sight of a name-tag. The second man at least was wearing one, but the lettering was too small for Light to see from this distance.

 

The double turned his head towards them. The shadow cast by his straggly hair slid across his face to hide one eye. A smile appeared suddenly like a knife-slash. Light had too much control to take a step away, but only just.

 

The man leaned forward from his shoulders, hunching towards them. “Good morning, L. Apparently you’re going commando today. It’s always the quiet ones.”

 

The short guard snapped, “No talking.”

 

Light didn’t get the impression his cellmate would have responded anyway. He was shrugging into his day clothes with languid movements, as if he were dressing at home.

 

The double grinned wider and faced the front again.

 

Light’s plans for the morning were in danger of being derailed. He was now ravenously curious about the man at his side. The double was creepy and probably deranged, but Light was inclined to view him as a red herring. Even if he had met them in the opposite order, he would have been certain that his cellmate was the original, and the other a copy. Just nature’s idea of a joke.

 

L. What did that stand for?

 

Everyone was now out of their cells. The guards were directing them outside in two rows. Light mechanically turned and nearly walked into his cellmate - L - who was tying the string at his waistband as if he had all the time in the world.

 

Light coughed.

 

“Oh, we’re moving?” L murmured.

 

He started to amble forward. Higuchi hadn’t given him his shoes, but being barefoot didn’t seem to bother him. Maybe that would change if they had to go outside.

  
The prisoners exited the cell block in silence. Light’s mind whirred along like cogs in a machine of incomparable complexity. It was good to remember that he was a genius. He would unravel the mystery of his cellmate and his shadow-double, _and_ complete his original plans for the day, while winning over all the guards to boot. Prison was boring; he needed projects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting this chapter out a bit early this week. Does a Monday or Saturday posting schedule work best for you guys?


	5. Porridge

The first order of the day turned out to be breakfast.  _ How civilised. _

 

Light retracted that judgement when he saw the food. He thanked the scowling seven-foot convict who had served it to him, and tried to think of ways to shave off his taste buds while walking to a table.

 

The tables in the canteen were long, low-slung worktops, each one half the length of the room. Like every item of furniture Light had seen so far, they were bolted to the floor. The prisoners sat on benches, hunched over to pick at their horrible food. They looked like ugly, oversized children. The meals came on trays with rounded corners, like the kind kindergarteners were given at lunchtime, and were made of a material so brittle that if used as a weapon, they would shatter on impact and harm no-one.

 

The room was already filling up. The men were shuffling up to make space, elbows tucked in due to lack of room. Wherever Light sat, he was going to end up cheek by jowl with some stranger.

 

L was just ahead of him. Light caught him up and touched his arm. Ink-black eyes swivelled towards him.

 

“Hey,” Light said. “Sorry about this morning. Are you alright?”

 

“Oh?” L looked as though he’d forgotten the events of the morning already. “Yes, please don’t worry about that. It was worth it to stay in bed a while longer.”

 

Light found that hard to believe. L was still barefoot, and probably had bruises under his scrubs. “You know, you could probably report that guard. I’d be happy to be a witness, if you’d like.”

 

L smiled. It was an unsettling look on him. “Mmm. Only your second day and you’re already making prison reforms. Yagami the younger has a strong sense of justice.”

 

Light felt his cheeks warm as if L had laughed at him outright. He pasted on a smile. “Well, the offer still stands.”

 

“Thank you.” L started walking down the middle of the rows of tables. Light followed him. “I probably won’t file a report, but if you feel moved to do so, please go ahead. Your father will be more likely to heed your complaint, anyway.”

 

_ Would he?  _ Light recalled every sign of disappointment on his father’s face since Light’s arrest. It was almost tempting to believe Dad would ignore him. Maybe he’d view L getting smacked around in front of Light as a useful scare tactic.  _ You broke the law and got caught? Learn to handle a taste of the real world.  _ Light indulged in a thrill of self-pity. It had been his only pleasure in the months leading to his trial.

 

Aloud, he said, “Actually, my father is very interested in prison reform. He talked a lot at home about inmate’s rights. He opposes all forms of brutality.”

 

“How moral of him. I’m impressed, Light Yagami.” L’s voice had a dreamy quality. It was so hard to tell if he was being sarcastic. “I suspect you are a font of information.”

 

Was this a good sign? Light couldn’t help feeling it would be worth a little condescension to acquire L as an ally.

 

“Hey, we might as well sit together,” he said. “I don’t know anybody here besides you. I feel a little silly that I still don’t know your name, by the way.”

 

L stopped abruptly. Light was ready this time, and didn’t walk into him.

 

When L spoke, the dreaminess had gone from his voice. He sounded locked down and distant. “I’m sorry, I always sit in the same place and it looks like there isn’t room for another person. But maybe another time. We will be seeing a lot of each other over the next few years, in any case.”

 

Light couldn’t help but feel snubbed. He kept the disappointment out of his voice. “That’s certainly true. OK, see you later.”

 

L meandered away towards the back table. Light noticed that although the benches had already filled up, there was a space left clear right in the middle. An elderly man was seated beside the gap. He looked just like an old English butler. He had an unassuming, gently sagging face, and small grey eyes behind round glasses. As L approached, the man anticipated him and got to his feet, creating more room for L to climb over the bench.

 

Rather than do this, L paused and turned back around, walking back to Light. Light blinked, wondering if he was going to be asked to join the table after all.

 

“I should have said. My name is Ryuzaki.”

 

With that, he turned again and made it to his seat. The older man was still standing patiently. L-or-Ryuzaki hopped over the bench and took his place, pulling his feet up onto the seat and perching in an odd crouch. The old man had somehow acquired a small pile of lollipops in addition to the slop on his breakfast tray. He passed them over to L, and got a nod in return. L unwrapped one and put it in his mouth, ignoring the food he’d been given at the counter.

 

That appeared to be that, then. Deflated and feeling slightly foolish, Light looked around for somewhere else to sit.

 

“You can sit with me if you like.”

 

The hairs rose on the back of Light’s neck. He turned to meet a wide smile set beneath outsized, bloodshot eyes.

 

It was the double.

 

Light said calmly, “Thank you, I’d like that.”

 

The man’s grin split his face in half. Light suppressed a shudder and followed him to a table. There was only room on the end for one, but the prisoners closest took one look at Light’s companion and shunted up at great speed. The double kicked off his shoes, hopped up onto the bench and squatted in an exact replica of the way L had sat.

 

Light took his seat beside him. The men opposite eyed him. Probably pitying the newbie for knowing no better than to befriend the resident psycho. Light picked up the plastic spoon they’d given him and scraped up a bit of gloop. It vaguely resembled porridge.

 

He was ravenously hungry, but the thought of putting this food in his mouth made his stomach roll over so vigorously he was sure he’d throw it straight back up. The double, in contrast, disregarded his spoon, lifted the tray to his mouth and slurped half of it in one go. Lumps of porridge oozed from the corners of his mouth, but he made no move to wipe them away.

 

Light felt clammy. He was thankful there was nothing in his stomach, or that would have been it for him. “...Do you like this stuff?” he tried, once he was sure his voice would come out sounding remotely normal.

 

The double lowered the tray slightly and stared at Light over the top. His movements were jerky, like a marionette. “Absolutely not. It’s disgusting. But I refuse to yield to it.” He bent his head to the tray and licked up a stripe through the middle. His tongue was grey-tinged, like his face.

 

Someone on the opposite bench dry-heaved. The man grinned wickedly and chewed with his mouth open.

 

Light’s stomach flipped, but he could will himself through this. To distract himself as much as from curiosity, he looked at the man’s nametag. On seeing it, he was sure there was a misprint.  _ What kind of a name is Beyond Birthday? _

 

“Mmmm,” the man sighed. He dropped his tray onto the table from head-height; several people flinched.

 

His arm jabbed out so quickly Light had no chance to react. He was dragged towards the red eyes and cadaverous face by the front of his scrubs. Light yelped and twisted, grabbing at the other man’s clenched hand in his shirt-front. The bony fingers were immovable.

 

“L is a plagiarist. Honestly, it’s unacceptable. Have you seen him? I find it offensive. You should tell him I said that. He doesn’t take my calls, but he’ll listen to you. If he won’t listen, hold him down and tell him slowly and clearly that I don’t like him, and I do not appreciate the theft of my image, which has been curated over a long period of time. I am an artist and a poet and he is a dirty copyist. An  _ actor. _ You must tell him, or I’ll break into your cell and peel off all your skin.”

 

“What the fuck,” Light gasped, eloquently.

 

His uniform collar was twisting around his neck from the force of the man’s grip. He heard the clatter of boots. Soon the guards would pull them apart and he’d be free, but he wouldn’t have any information on L, and that wouldn’t do. He managed a breath through the pressure on his neck and said, “Why do you look alike? Are you twins? Is his name really Ryuzaki or L or something else?”

 

Beyond Birthday’s nostrils flared. His hand spasmed in Light’s shirt-front. Light could punch him and shake him loose, but he held himself back. Beyond pulled him closer, thin lips descending on Light’s ear.

 

“No pumping me for information, Light Yagami. I say what I mean and never any more than that. You’ll have to ask L. You’ll have to have a  _ long _ conversation.”

 

The guards were on them. Two of them seized Beyond by the arms and torso. Someone else gripped Light, too, pinning his biceps to his chest. There was a yank from both directions, and Light and Beyond were wrenched apart.

 

Light’s heart was thundering in his chest. He had nearly lost a chunk of uniform to that scrabbling hand. Beyond was panting as if he’d been given a shock instead of Light. His angular body twitched in the guard’s grip. It almost seemed he was enjoying himself.

 

The guard holding Light let him go. Light automatically flattened his hair and pulled his clothes straight.

 

Beyond Birthday started to laugh. It was an unreal sound, a theatrical horror villain sound, as if he’d practised it in front of a mirror. The guards holding him dragged him from the bench and onto his knees.

 

“Careful! Careful! I’m  _ crazy _ !” Beyond twisted around, his mad eyes seeking out the table at the back. Light followed his gaze. L sat in his crouch, lollipop in his mouth. His face was placid as he took in the scene. Half the other inmates were staring, but a good number were ignoring them. Possibly Beyond threw tantrums like this regularly.

 

The bored expression on the guards’ faces gave support to this theory. “Either take a write-up and settle down or go back to solitary.” Aizawa’s voice. He must be the one holding Light.

 

Beyond’s eyes lit up. “Ooooh! Solitary, please.”

 

Aizawa sighed. Clearly they’d been through this before. “Fine. I’m making a note saying you requested this.” He finally let go of Light. About time. Honestly, Light was already sick of being manhandled every time somebody around him decided to make trouble.

 

Light watched Beyond get frog-marched out of the canteen. It was satisfying to look upon. Aizawa eyed Light over his shoulder before following.

 

Light slid into Beyond’s empty seat. He had quite a lot of room now. He ignored the convicts’ stares as he picked up his plastic spoon, contemplated his cold porridge, steeled himself and began shovelling it in. It was truly, deeply vile. He gagged, but kept choking it down, one unappetising mouthful after another. He needed to be as well-fed, well-rested and fit as was possible to be inside a prison. He wasn’t sacrificing his health on top of everything else he’d lost.

  
He left his tray spotless.


	6. Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up this chapter for a) swearing, b) someone thinking mean things about Matsuda.

The rest of Light’s second day was considerably less eventful than his first couple of hours.

 

The main locations he would be spending his time were as follows:

 

Woodshop. Inmates spent the majority of their waking hours in an enormous warehouse, making furniture. Light spent most of the morning with a small group of newly-arrived prisoners, going through an induction on how to use the machinery. The instructor went far too slowly and Light tuned out most of what he said, dipping back in whenever they moved onto a new topic and zoning out again when he’d grasped the subject. He’d had a lot of training for doing this in school.

 

Later on, he was permitted to actually touch the wood the prison was providing for them. It was extremely heavy-duty. Whatever they made from this could probably be used to clobber one another, assuming anyone was strong enough to lift it. It wasn’t difficult work, and Light let his mind drift while he polished and sanded, only coming back to earth to lament the state of his hands. He was going to have blisters in the short-term, callouses in the long-term. He’d have to acquire some moisturiser through his commissary. God knew how he was going to salvage his fingernails.

 

The prison yard was next. Thirty minutes at a time to spend outdoors. A barbed wire fence stretched into the distance like a neat line on graph paper. Just beyond it, the road rolled out to the horizon.

 

Light looked at it and let it pull at him. For a moment he was back at the station after he’d first been arrested, trembling with the enormity of how his life had just been utterly fucked. He wanted to slump in the middle of the yard and refuse to move until dragged away.

 

Instead, someone bumped his shoulder from behind as they walked past him.

 

It was a needed jolt. Light rose from his fog and jogged a couple of laps of the track to reset himself. This was the area where he would have the most freedom, and it needed to be thoroughly scoped out.

 

The area was about eighty yards long, and as wide as a baseball diamond. Light made a full circuit, until the grunting conversations of the other prisoners were far behind him. The scrubby grass reminded him of the primary school his mother had used to work at before becoming a full-time housewife. A few other men were using the track, pounding along in silence. Light let them overtake him. His lungs filled with fresh air while his brain filled with a neat plan of the grounds, sketching itself with mathematical precision. There was a row of outhouses, with tiny gaps between them filled with cigarette butts. A pitiful greenhouse stood strangled by the garden someone had attempted to grow around it once upon a time. Towers for the guards were stationed around the perimeter. Light calculated which parts of the grounds were the least visible to them. When he lapped around to the other end, he took in a bench for weights, which had been taken over by a few well-built prisoners. Besides this, there were no sports facilities.

 

L wasn’t anywhere in the yard, and nor was the old man.

 

Their time outdoors came to an end too quickly. It was back to the warehouse for another two hours, then the canteen for more horrible food. This time Light didn’t bother speaking to anyone, just sat in the first space he could see and shovelled down everything in front of him.

 

Warehouse again. Light’s hands throbbed, and he had to pull out two splinters. He was getting clumsier, but it couldn’t be helped. Outdoors, and this time Matsuda was on guard. Light smiled at him as he walked by. Matsuda gave Light a grin in return, but Higuchi was standing nearby and he shot Matsuda a contemptuous look that made him wilt and avoid Light’s eyes for the rest of the hour. Light couldn’t use the weights with his sore hands, so he jogged more laps until the time was up.

 

One more stint in the warehouse. Light moved slowly and gingerly. The pain made it difficult to zone out, so he felt every second of the tedious two hours as they crawled by.

 

At last, they were finished with work for the day. The next couple of hours were, theoretically, his own. Light stood from the bench and stretched. All around him, the other prisoners got to their feet with lumbering movements and wordless grunts. They resembled livestock. Light made sure his back was straight as he left the room with them.

 

They were herded back to the wing where Light was processed the day before. The block of orange bodies began to disperse. This must be rec time. Light’s eyes sought out Matsuda as he hung about near the crowd of inmates, clearly trying to look like he was doing his job, but with little knowledge of what was expected of him. Matsuda looked jumpy, then relieved when he realised it was Light making a beeline for him.

 

“Hello, Matsuda-san,” Light said softly once he was in earshot. “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me.”

 

Matsuda beamed, flattered. _Yep, definitely in the wrong line of work._ Light tried to look lost and appealing. “I promised my mother I’d phone her as soon as I got the chance, but I’m not sure what I need to do first… I was given a PIN number for the phones when I arrived, but I don’t have any money on my account yet. Is there some kind of emergency fund?”

 

Light hoped he’d gauged the correct level of cluelessness to display. Matsuda seemed clueless enough himself that Light figured he could get away with hamming it up.

 

His deduction was correct. Matsuda said, “Oh yeah, don’t worry, an emergency fund covers you for your first three weeks. You should have two hundred and fifty yen on that PIN number. It’s only good for about ten minutes of phone time, I’m afraid. Sorry it’s not more.”

 

“That’s ok, she probably just wants to know I’m alright. So, am I able to ring her now?”

 

“Er, sure, don’t see why not!” Matsuda gestured down a corridor, then froze. “Oh wait - phone numbers have to be approved before you can use them. You should have been given a form when you got here? I’m afraid it takes a few days to process them…”

 

Light had figured this. “Yeah, I filled out the form. Is there any way you could make an exception? I mean, my mom’s number is the same as the warden’s, if that makes it easier!” He gave a small laugh. He could deal for now with Matsuda thinking of him as some dorky kid.

 

Matsuda’s answering laugh was sympathetic. “Weeeell, if it’s an emergency call we’d be allowed to waive the checks…”

 

Light widened his eyes. Any moment now...

 

“Oh sure, I’ll override it for you.”

 

Light bowed to hide his smirk. “Thank you Matsuda-san.”

 

Matsuda started to walk with him down the corridor to the phones. Did he have nothing else to do? Riots to prevent? _I must just be_ that _adorable._

 

Matsuda said, perkily, “By the way, you know we record all your calls, right?”

 

 _Yes, which I’m sure is a big hassle for the fraction of people here stupid enough to organise drug deals or harass witnesses over the phone._ “Yeah. That doesn’t go for calls to my lawyer, though, am I right?”

 

“No, legal calls are exempt. You’ll have to enter details for lawyers or whatever on a separate form. Anyway, here we are - there’s a bit of a queue, I’m afraid.”

 

So there was. Light eyed the assortment of bodies waiting in line. They’d better keep it short, or he’d end up wasting his entire two hours here.

 

“Thanks for your help,” he told Matsuda. “My dad always spoke highly of you.” That had to be going too far, but he couldn’t resist seeing if Matsuda would actually fall for it. And… yes he would. The other man’s eyes were glistening with pride. _For god’s sake, is he blushing?_

 

“That’s kind of you to say, Light! I mean - Yagami? Err, I’m sorry, I guess I need to call you ‘inmate’ or something…” Matsuda leaned closer. “Look, I probably shouldn’t show favouritism, but I’m really sorry all this happened to you, you know? Your dad always said nice things about you, too. He was really proud of you. He always went on about how you were the top student in the country and heading for the best colleges after graduation.”

 

Light did his best to hide how much of a knife between the ribs that was. _Thank you, Matsuda. It’s nice to be reminded how great my life was before the justice system screwed me over and tossed me into this cesspit._

 

Matsuda patted Light’s shoulder, and departed with a lightness to his step. _Probably patting himself on the back for cheering me up. Cunt._

 

Light took his place at the end of the queue. He held up his hands to inspect. Blisters were forming, as he had predicted. The skin of his palms ached all over with a dull throb.

 

He spent his time in line nurturing a grudge against every person who had ever set foot in this building besides himself. He also rehearsed what he was going to say. It was a shame this call would be recorded no matter which number he rang. He would have attempted to ring his lawyer, but there was no point until the prison had processed his forms and knew her office number was for confidential calls.

 

Light wasn’t nervous as the phone rang. He knew someone would pick up.

 

When the call connected, there were a few moments of dead air. The automated voice was telling whoever was at the other end that they were receiving a call from the penitentiary. Then his mother’s voice was in his ear.

 

“Hello? Light? Is that you, sweetheart?”

 

He hadn’t been sweetheart for years. “Mom? Yeah, it’s me.” Light put the slightest waver into his voice. Getting the vulnerable-to-brave ratio was important.

 

Mom’s breaths trembled down the line. “Oh my god… I didn’t think we’d hear from you for at least a week. How are you doing?”

 

“I’m ok, Mom. I’m using my emergency fund to call you. I’m afraid I only have enough for about ten minutes.”

 

“Light, you shouldn’t use up your emergency fund just to call us!”

 

“Don’t worry. I was happy to do it.” The fund automatically expired if he didn’t use it, but he’d let her think otherwise. “How are you and Sayu doing?”

 

Mom’s voice was wobbly, but she was attempting to disguise it. “We miss you, but besides that we’re fine. Things have been hard for Sayu, obviously. But you know her, she’s a cheerful person at heart. She’s just keeping her head down at school right now. She’s been really good about finishing her homework lately.”

 

 _Great - all we needed to boost Sayu’s work ethic was a convict in the family._ “I’m glad. When you all come and visit me, tell her to bring her homework and I’ll check it for her.”

 

Mom gave a wet-sounding laugh. “You sound just like your usual self. Tell us as soon as a slot is available for us to visit. We’d love to see you.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be at the courthouse. I wish I’d been there for you one more time before… before they took you away.”

 

Light felt a pinch to his heart. It pissed him off and made him search for a distraction. He looked at the clock on the far wall, and saw that he was already two and a half minutes into his phone call. He couldn’t get bogged down in an emotional conversation.

 

“Don’t say that,” he said. “I couldn’t have asked you to come. It would have been painful for us both. By the time I see you, I’ll have settled in here. It won’t be so bad.”

 

“Still, I want you to know I would have come. I’m very proud of you, Light - I always will be.”

 

The script in Light’s head momentarily stalled. He had never valued his mother’s pride in him. It had been obvious his entire life that she would be proud - what mother wouldn’t be, whose child’s grades were as high as Light’s? His father’s good opinion meant more to him, but not by much. He was only a warden. Light had always known that the day he achieved his ambitions, he would detach from his family and peel off into the ranks of superior people, and they would understand this was right for him and wave him goodbye in good spirits. Naturally they would miss him, and he would miss them, but they would all accept their new places in the world relative to each other. He would still call, of course.

 

Now, he was disgraced. His mother, always so gently accepting of her mediocrity, was his social superior. Bestowing pride upon him was an act of generosity she was performing. She was informing him that his family would always be there to prop him up. _No. I was supposed to merely outshine you._

 

“Thank you,” Light managed to get out, several seconds too late.

 

“Do you want to talk to Sayu?”

 

Thank god, this was his opportunity to get back on track. “Actually, is Dad in?”

 

Mom paused. “You want to talk to your father?”

 

“Only if he wants to.”

 

“Oh - no - I’m sure he’d be happy to speak to you. Are you sure you’re allowed to do that?”

 

“It’s not against any rules as far as I know. I’m sure he’ll tell me if I’m mistaken. Obviously I only wanted to talk about personal things, nothing more. The call is being recorded, and I’m sure neither Dad nor myself will say anything inappropriate.”

 

“...In that case, I’ll go and get him. Goodbye, Light. Call any time. I love you.”

 

“Love you,” Light parroted back. There was a soft click of the phone being placed on a table.

 

Five minutes. He could do this. His insides roiled at the thought of talking to Dad, even just over a phone line, but this was necessary and might help to drag the day of his release forward. Inch by inch, that was how he’d get his freedom.

 

Murmurs in the background, and then a clatter. Light licked his dry lips.

 

“Light,” said Soichiro Yagami.

 

“Hi, Dad.” Less breathy than with his mother, but he kept the tremble. Dad valued courage, but he was free with his emotions, and would not require Light to be too stoic.

 

“How are you settling in?”

 

 _It’s not summer camp, Dad._ “I’m ok. It’s a shock, but I’m coping.”

 

Dad started to say something, but cut himself off. For a while, Light only heard slow breaths.

 

Finally Dad said, “I’m sorry. This isn’t a situation I ever expected.”

 

Another silence. Light waited. Now wasn’t the right time to break in.

 

“I’m not sure what to say to you. I should have prepared myself for this better.” Dad gave a long sigh. Light imagined the familiar slide of his fingers pushing up his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know that you’d ring so soon -”

 

This time, the silence echoed, before Dad rushed in to fill it. “I’m sorry, Light, I didn’t mean to sound - that came out completely wrong. I’m very glad you rang. I’m happy you spoke to your mother.”

 

“I wanted to hear you both.” Light was speaking quickly. There was a sting in his throat and he wanted to get off the phone before something could go wrong. “I couldn’t wait. There’s something I wanted to say to you, especially, Dad.”

 

Dad took a breath over the line, probably preparing some confession of his own, but Light didn’t have time and he couldn’t listen to much more.

 

“I’m sorry. What I did was wrong. It was illegal, and I knew it was illegal when I did it. I just didn’t care, because I thought I was too clever to have to face any consequences. I’ve been arrogant and self-centred. I took advantage of you, and then, to get out of trouble, I lied to you. You were right to advise me to plead guilty. This is where I deserve to be right now. I want to spend my sentence making up for my actions. If it’s at all possible, I’d also like to make things up to you. If it’ll mean you’re no longer ashamed of me, I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

 

Seconds ticked by. Light’s breath caught in his windpipe as he forced it evenly through.

 

“Light.”

 

Light waited.

 

“I’m so relieved to hear you say that.”

 

Light sagged against the wall. He noticed for the first time a tremor in his hand holding the receiver.

 

“You and I were both so angry after you were arrested. I wasn’t fair to you. I thought, when you refused to apologise, when you kept lying to defend yourself, that I’d been wrong about you your whole life. You seemed like a stranger to me. I felt I had to fight you, because I was terrified to think that I’d never really known you, that your strength of character was something I’d projected onto you. I’m sorry, Light. I should have had faith in you. I handled the situation badly, and I punished you for handling it badly too. I should have known the way you were acting was out of character. If I’d shown kindness, you might have calmed down sooner and we wouldn’t be having this conversation for the first time with you in prison.”

 

“I’m sorry about hacking your computer, Dad. I never meant to use you like that.”

 

“I know, Light, I know. Please let’s just forget about it. You’re being punished enough as it is.”

 

“I have to go soon. This call was only for ten minutes. Just - are you coming to the prison soon?”

 

“I’ll be back at my desk next week. Light, you should be aware that we can’t talk father to son while I’m working. I’ll have to treat you like any other inmate.”

 

“I know, and I promise to treat you like the warden. I just miss seeing you and Mom and Sayu. I know it’s only been two days, but -”

 

“They’ll visit as soon as possible. I can probably see you as a visitor too, as long as we work out the scheduling.”

 

“That would be good. I want you to see that I meant what I said. While I’m here, I’ll be a model prisoner.”

 

The breath that crackled down the phone sounded a little like laughter. “I never doubted that, Light. How much time is left?”

 

“It’s probably about to run out.”

 

“Goodbye, then. I love you. Please keep your head down and stay safe. I promise, this time will go by and when you’re out -”

 

A series of pips rang in Light’s ear. A canned voice told him the call had been disconnected.

 

Perfect timing.

 

He replaced the receiver and walked back up the corridor without another glance. His hands still throbbed, but numbly, as though a protective layer was blocking the pain.

 

* * *

 

He took a detour into the bathroom. There was a guard stationed just inside, who watched with blank eyes as Light shut himself in a stall.

 

He stood breathing the fetid air, hands placed neatly on his stomach. Then he sucked in a lungful of air, clenched two fistfuls of his uniform, and unleashed a silent scream. His body bent in half from the force of it. He felt his jaw contort and his throat ache as acutely as if the scream was voiced.

 

_I’ve never been so humiliated in my life._

 

A tiny noise escaped. If the guard heard it, it would just sound like Light had snuck in here to cry. He’d sound like a kid missing his parents. The scream turned into soundless laughter.

 

_So you love me again, Dad? I’m not perfect anymore, but you’ll take me back as long as I grovel? You’re so predictable. Even after catching me in a lie when I was arrested, you’re still so easy to lie to now. You want to believe me, because it isn’t good enough to have a son who excels at everything and has the audacity to know his value, no, you need me to share all of your morals, even the pointless ones, and if I stray from them you’ll betray me in an instant, because I’m not the right kind of good person unless I’m just like you. You threw me away and made me debase myself, but you’ll love me again if I lick your shoes -_

 

There was a rap on the door. Light’s head snapped up.

 

“You’ve been in there too long. Hurry it up.”

 

Light stared at the door, lip curling. He turned to face the revolting container this place was passing off as a toilet, pushed down his uniform trousers and underwear, and urinated with force in the horrible little bowl. The guard huffed and Light heard departing footsteps. It felt appropriate to round off his chat with Dad by literally pissing on something.

 

This was fine. This was his plan. It was worth dragging himself through mud if he could leave this place sooner. Two years, that’s how long he had to keep this up. He’d do two years and they’d let him go. It was obvious he didn’t belong here. Dad knew it, he just needed a little reminder. Once Light was out and reestablished in the world, he’d invite him over and tell him just how inadequate he found him, how good it felt to cut him loose. Then he’d never speak to him again.

 

By the time Light left the stall, he was calm. The guard eyed him on the way out. Light smiled at him.

 

As he walked to his next destination, he noticed he had made a small rip in his uniform top. _Oh well._ He’d be able to pass that off as Beyond’s doing.

  
He’d spent enough time today on unpleasant chores. He had about twenty minutes of rec time left. He was going to look for L.


	7. Infamy

The rec room had a television mounted to the wall and protected with heavy-duty casing, a table tennis area with no balls or rackets, and some chairs and tables. Bolted down, of course.

  
A tiny blonde was gesticulating on the TV. Her dimples flashed at the camera. She was probably an idol of some kind, but Light didn’t recognise her. Normally he picked up glimmers of information on pop stars from Sayu, but there was an eight-month gap in his knowledge now.

  
A cluster of men were gathered in a knot in front of the screen, as close as they could get. The testosterone came off them like a heat wave. Light could practically smell it.

  
“Fuck me,” one of them mumbled as the girl’s chest shifted under the heart-shaped cut-out in the front of her dress.

  
“Nah, fuck her,” someone replied. There was a ripple of oafish laughter. Light rolled his eyes. It was like being back at school. One time he’d walked into the boy’s changing room and found a couple of his classmates actually wanking to some porn magazine, right out in the open. The looks on their faces had been priceless, but Light could have done without the mental scars. He hoped none of these guys were on the verge of whipping it out. He’d already seen two unwanted dicks today.

  
Speaking of which.

  
L was sitting in the corner, reading a newspaper. He held it close to his face, each top corner pinched between thumb and forefinger. A small pile of papers were scattered across the table, as if they’d been thrown down in the middle of an article. L was perched on the edge of his chair in the same odd, gargoylesque pose he’d adopted at breakfast. Even though the room was uncomfortably full, there was a visible radius of empty space around him.

  
Light wound through the knot of orange jumpsuits and dropped into the chair next to him. L lowered his paper just enough to peep over the top.

  
“Hey, Light. How’s it going.”

  
“Hello, Ryuzaki. It’s going well, as you can see. Life perfectly on track.” Light gestured at himself, jumpsuit and all. Humour was a useful tool in forming connections.

  
L’s eyes followed the sweep of Light’s hand. “I can see a rip in your shirt.”

  
It was a very small rip. Light hadn’t expected anyone to spot it this quickly. His fingers brushed over it. “This? Yes, it’s thanks to your look-alike. I’d ask him to mend it, but I don’t want to be stabbed with a sewing needle.”

  
“Hmmm.” L flicked over a page and said nothing. Light got the feeling he didn't believe him. A surge of anger leapt from the pit of his stomach and lodged in his throat. What was L’s problem? It was a perfectly plausible story.

  
Light swallowed hard and forced the lump of rage back down. It was a leftover of that phone call, and he needed to keep it in check.

  
When he could speak again, he said, “You know, I asked him why the two of you look so similar. He said he couldn’t answer, but I should ask you. He’s an unusual person, isn’t he?”

  
“I’m told I’m an unusual person, too.”

  
“Well.” Light eyed L’s pigeon-toed crouch. The knees of his uniform were worn thin from him folding up like a pile of laundry. His feet curled around the edge of his chair like a bird’s on a branch. They were smudged with an appalling amount of dirt. He must have gone the entire day without shoes. Light ran a mental list of all the surfaces L might have put his feet up on that day, and decided it didn't bear thinking about.

  
L was ignoring him again. He tossed aside the newspaper in his hands and picked up another. Light recognised it as a sub-tabloid that mainly dealt in scaremongering and conspiracy theories. His parents would never have allowed it in the house. This was even more offensive than the state of L’s feet. He was supposed to be smart, for heaven’s sake.

  
“Do you read that one often?” Light enquired.

  
“Hmm.” L had retreated behind the paper, invisible save his long crabbed fingers pinching the corners. “I find value in nonsense. Sometimes, when you sift through it, you can fill in the edges of what the respectable papers are willing to report.”

  
Light rolled his eyes, blocked from view. This was very disappointing. “Even when they report lies as truth? I imagine it’s difficult to fact-check from prison.”

  
L lowered his paper and looked directly at Light.

  
“I am excellent at detecting lies. What people choose to lie about can tell you much about them. For example, this publication lies about the prevalence of immigration to Japan. It does so to pander to its core readership of social conservatives who are uneasy around foreigners. But it also seeks to radicalise its readership by pushing them towards a paranoid, conspiracy-based worldview in which the government and mainstream news are concealing the truth from them, thus requiring constant investment in the one source that's willing to tell them what's really happening - that is, this publication. Also its offshoots, which are all owned by the same corporation. Invested and partisan consumers spend more money.”

  
“Well, that much is pretty obvious.” Light was disguising his irritation poorly, and beginning not to care. He’d heard enough pretentious stating of the obvious from some of his classmates - worse, a couple of the teachers. “That's standard social science. Personally I wouldn't bother to read that paper every day just to check they still dislike foreigners.”

  
L’s dark eyes darkened for a moment. “Well, technically I am a foreigner, so it can be useful to keep track of the public mood.”

  
Oh. Damnit. Light felt himself blush.

  
“And if you had happened to flip through it, you might have noticed this.” L turned the paper around and pushed it in Light’s face.

  
Light leaned back in his chair until his nose wasn't literally touching the page. The left-hand side of the double-spread was an article suggesting two politicians who had died of heart attacks six months earlier had been assassinated by the opposition. It looked mind-numbingly stupid. The other side just had some fluff pieces about heroic animals, a cosmetics ad and - _what the fuck -?_

  
Light’s eyes widened. In the bottom corner was a photo of him.

  
It was him after his trial, in suit and handcuffs on the steps of the courthouse. The headline declared:

  
**WARDEN’S SON GUILTY OF CRIMES AGAINST JAPAN!**

  
Light swallowed. He read the by-line.

  
**TEENAGER JEOPARDISED NATIONAL SECURITY**

  
...Maybe the article itself wouldn't be so bad -

  
_The son of a proclaimed ‘reformer’ prison warden was sentenced today in Kasumigaseki for compromising the security of Japan.  
   Light Yagami, 18, hacked government computer networks and embarrassed high-ranking officials. Despite Yagami’s actions being described as “treasonous” by some, only a 5-year sentence was handed down. It is unknown whether Yagami passed on or sold secrets to foreign intelligence agencies -_

  
Light’s blood thundered in his ears. _I was cleared of that, you piece of gutter trash -_

_  
\- Controversially, Yagami will serve his short sentence at Yellowbox Penitentiary, known as ‘the Warehouse’, under warden and father Soichiro Yagami. Mr Yagami has previously come under fire for instituting lenient conditions for prisoners at Yellowbox. An investigation into favourable treatment of his son may be pending, according to sources._

  
The rest of the article blurred before Light’s eyes. He scanned furiously for the author of this bullshit. Hitoshi Demegawa. Never heard of him, never would have in an ideal world.

  
“I checked the other papers, but most of them don't mention you.” L’s usually flat tone had a maddening cheery note in it. “That's the only one with a picture.”

  
Oh, good. He'd only have to murder the one journalist, then.

  
Light’s brain snagged on something. He yanked the newspaper down, revealing L in his crouch behind it.

  
“This paper says I was sentenced “today”, meaning it came out yesterday. When did you read that article?”

  
L stared blankly back at him. “Hmm. Hard to recall. I suppose it could have been yesterday.”

  
“So your brilliant deduction that I was the warden’s son…” Light laughed, scornful. “You'd already seen my picture.”

  
L looked unconvincingly surprised. “Oh, maybe that was where I got it from. How embarrassing.”

  
Light clenched his teeth. He took in the man before him. A grime-coated bag of bones with druggy blown pupils. He looked like an old, smelly family dog who wasn't allowed on the furniture. Light assessed his own actions, and the conclusion was obvious. The shock of prison had temporarily impaired his judgement and caused the delusion that this man would be a useful ally. An understandable mistake, which he would correct immediately.

  
Light got to his feet and walked away.

  
“Light! I should tell you something.”

  
A few more paces, and he'd be out of earshot.

  
He stopped.

  
L called out again. “Your article wasn't the reason I was looking at that page in the paper.”

  
Light bit his tongue. He shouldn’t bother replying.

  
“I'll tell you what I was really looking at if you do something for me.”

  
Was he for fucking real? Light opened his mouth -

  
A deafening ring blasted from the speakers.

  
Light flinched. Everyone in the room yelled out or groaned.

  
“Break time over, everyone back to the cells,” a guard bellowed.

  
The prisoners began to slope to their feet. The stragglers were hurried up by guards.

  
L alone hadn't reacted to the noise. He remained curled up on the edge of his chair, fixing Light with that sulphated stare.

  
Light sighed.

  
“Are you never going to follow instructions on time? I’m not hanging around to hear your condition. Tell me back in our cell, but I can’t guarantee I’ll listen.”

  
L unfolded from his crouch and onto the floor.  He gathered the newspapers on the table into a messy pile and hoisted the lot into his arms. Stray pages flapped loose in his twiggy arms as he strolled over and joined the flow of traffic towards the door.

  
Light did the same. He tried to keep some distance between them, but L somehow managed to sidle up and lean uncomfortably close to Light's ear.

  
“Play tennis with me.”

  
Light didn’t look at him. His face was blank as he marched with the other prisoners back to the cells.


	8. Nightlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2017!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's checked this story out so far. Here's to keeping up the pace (hopefully) this year.
> 
> FYI, I made a tiny edit to the end of last chapter; L originally walked off leaving all of his newspapers behind. As if he'd leave a record of Light being publically humiliated just lying around.
> 
> FYI 2, this chapter finally earns the Explicit rating. Hope you enjoy.

_There are no tennis courts in here, you utter mental case._

 

Light glared at L’s back.

 

L was undressing. No-one else was; it was still hours before lights out. Light had thought the run-in with Higuchi that morning would sour L on public nudity. Clearly he was wrong.

 

L was hunched in a corner, in some half-assed gesture at modesty. First the bones in his shoulders exposed themselves as he shrugged his way out of his uniform, and then the rest of him. It was like watching a skeleton stripping. Light imagined his thoughts beamed onto that pale streak of skin, insults lighting up on both sides of L’s protruding spine like a psychically-projected kick-me sign.

 

Orange pooled around L’s feet as the last of his clothes dropped to the floor. He poked the pile with a toe, as if checking it was dead. Light expected him to leave everything on the ground, but instead he hooked one foot through the bundle of clothing and lifted it into the air on his ankle. Light watched him wobble on one leg as he plucked his clothes off his raised foot. A bruise like an oil slick was smeared over his hip from where he’d been dragged out of bed that morning. His legs weren’t that long, but their skinniness gave the illusion of length. His ass was flat as a pancake.

 

Light had seen other boys his age. Changing rooms, and so on. Nobody was ever caught dead staring at each other, but Light had sometimes let his gaze drift sideways under his eyelashes. Curiosity was normal, and sometimes, despite himself, Light wanted to be normal. He knew he was uncommonly attractive. Peeking at his peers gave him a smug little rush, noting who was shorter than him, who had pimples, whose teenaged body was in any way out of proportion. It made Light feel briefly powerful, and then bored, and then lingeringly disgusted with himself for valuing something that petty.

 

None of his classmates, even the plainest, had been as viscerally unappealing as L. His ugliness demanded attention. Strangely, it was more compelling than any of the other bodies Light had caught glimpses of.

 

L’s uniform went back on its hanger. His dun-coloured pyjamas lay on the ground where Higuchi had torn them off him that morning. He once again used his foot to scoop them and did a one-legged wobble while transferring them to his hands. Light wanted to snap at him that this was ludicrous, there could not possibly exist a person who did nothing normally, Light had only been in prison for twenty-four hours and he was already this close to climbing the walls, he had expected boredom to be his biggest problem, not his cell mate's skin-crawling oddness, why was nothing about this _fucking fair?_

 

L’s face was suddenly inches from his own. Light must have blinked and missed him moving.

 

He was holding his pyjamas to his chest like a child with a pet rabbit. Light folded his arms and returned L’s void-like stare.

 

“This building doesn’t have a tennis court,” he snapped.

 

“I was aware. You seem upset. I hope you weren’t expecting a medium-security prison to have better sports facilities.”

 

“I was expecting my cellmate to wear more clothes.”

 

L shrugged, or just hunched further. His thin arms pressed his pyjamas closer to his body.

 

“I was about to get changed in my bunk. Would you mind moving to the side? There isn’t much room in here.”

 

“Of course I don’t mind, Ryuzaki. I’d appreciate an answer, at some point before our tennis match, what you think we are going to play on, and with what equipment. That’s all.”

 

“That’s completely fair, Light. Now, if you could just move over? I’ve got no clothes on.”

 

Light magnanimously didn’t punch him. He stepped back to let L pass.

 

“Just to be sure I’ve got this straight, I have to play tennis with you, so that you’ll show me a news story, in a paper that I’ve already told you I think is garbage.”

 

L, the bastard, paused halfway up the ladder. _No! Fuck! Keep moving, you unwashed lunatic!_ The view at Light’s eye-line was inappropriate in the extreme.

 

“An apt summary, Light. I suppose I could stipulate that you must beat me in the tennis match, since otherwise you might just go through the motions to get to the end. That seems a little cruel, however, especially if you are not convinced of the value of the prize. I hope once I explain some of my theories, you -”

 

_“Can you tell me this once you’re dressed, L?!_

 

“...Apologies.”

 

Light huffed as L made it the rest of the way up. His face was hot. Damn everything to hell.

 

* * *

 

L didn’t make an effort to talk to him again. Light was glad to be left alone. Even though there was absolutely nothing to do. He’d been right about the boredom after all.

 

He retreated to his bunk soon after L. He lay on his stomach facing the bars, pretending to doze while he monitored the prisoners opposite. The man with the sleek long hair read a book. His cellmate cycled through a one-man card game, to pacing, to stretching. He seemed twitchy.

 

Light was sure it was no later than seven when he started yawning. He hadn’t realised how tired he was. Six hours of furniture assembly had gifted him one hundred and seventy yen, cramping hands and a reversion to a six-year-old’s bedtime.

 

He undressed in his bunk. The lights were still on and he was on top of the blankets, but it wasn’t like he was letting it all hang out in the middle of the room like L. Anyone who noticed was probably a weirdo anyway. He gave another mammoth yawn.

 

Exhaustion prevented him thinking to retrieve his pyjamas until after his clothes were off. He had to roll onto his stomach for a few seconds in the narrow space to rummage under his pillow. _Well, I guess anyone who just looked up got an eyeful. Still, better me than L._ He shook the thought out of his head. He must be delirious.

 

When he turned back over, the long-haired man across the corridor was watching him.

 

Light blinked. He felt stupid from the need to sleep. Had he imagined that?

 

The man’s cat-like eyes regarded Light over the top of his book. He turned a page slowly, with long, elegant fingers.

 

Something ran through Light from head to toe. It was like the sharpness of getting a shock, but rather than a lightning bolt, it rippled out slowly, raising the hairs on his body one by one.

 

The man’s eyes dropped back to his book. It was as if he’d found Light only mildly interesting in the first place.

 

Light felt as though a coal was glowing in his stomach. Surely the entire corridor, and worse, L, would be able to tell. He slipped into his prison pyjamas as fast as possible with suddenly clumsy hands.

 

Minutes later, teeth brushed and face washed in the grotty sink, Light was sure his reaction was a combination of outrage and nausea. He got into bed without sparing a glance for the long-haired man, and was overcome by sleep in seconds.

 

* * *

 

 

Light’s eyes hurt. Something was blinding him.

 

He struggled to break the surface of sleep, thrashing heavy-limbed in a deep black lake. Finally his eyes were open, but the cell was dark as pitch. Why did he feel as though he’d been caught in a car’s high beams?

 

A piercing white light shone right in his face.

 

Light gasped. He covered his eyes with his hands, but bright pink strips still seared through between his fingers. Then, they faded, as though someone was turning them down.

 

Light separated his fingers slightly and peered out. It was no use, all he could see were afterimages.

 

He slipped silently out of bed. The floor was filthy and freezing. He found his shoes by feel, got them on and crept to the bars of his cell. He squinted out into the blackness of the corridor, narrowing his eyes to slits.

 

A pale white light beamed from the cell opposite. It picked out Light’s face, then flipped and pointed backwards, illuminating its owner.

 

It was the long-haired man. He held a pocket torch.

 

Light’s breath caught.  _Pretty sure you’re not meant to have that._

 

The man’s torso floated in the darkness. Lit from underneath, his face was vulpine, sharpened to needle points at the nose and chin. His eyes vanished into dark pools beneath a strong browline. Light thought, ridiculously, of L, who might as well be a skeleton with hollow sockets for those endless dark eyes. The thought was ridiculous because this man was nothing like L. Light stared across, through two sets of bars, into the sharp cat’s eyes he knew dwelt in the shadowed recesses of the other man’s face.

 

The man smiled. His long fingers twirled the torch until its beam pointed straight up. He stooped and propped it carefully on the ground, tilted forward, its weight supported by the bars. Light knew it had been placed to illuminate him, as it spilled its light between their cells.

 

When the man stood, his entire long body was lit up from below. He lifted his arms, grasped the collar of his pyjamas, and then his torso moved in a mesmerising, slinking way and his shirt rode up, up and gave way to a perfect flat stomach. Thick, dark hair gleamed in the torchlight as the man’s neck tipped forward and he pulled his shirt over his head, and Light could now see his muscular chest, the regal curve where his neck met his well-built shoulders.

 

Light’s stomach curled into a knot. Nobody in the changing rooms at school had looked like this. Light was pretty sure nobody looked like this outside of movies. A memory popped up, uninvited, of him deliberately ignoring the idols on TV that Sayu squealed over. _Lowbrow programming. I’d prefer to read a book._ He’d sat at the dining table, just out of range of the screen, where he could only hear Sayu’s running commentary, not catch glimpses of any of the men. He’d kept to his usual four-hundred words per minute reading speed and felt very superior. It now occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the titles of any of the books he had read.

 

The pyjama top dropped to the ground. The man straightened and caught Light’s eyes again. His gaze roamed, drinking in everything to Light’s navel and then back up. An eyebrow quirked. _Your turn._

 

Light’s face burned so hot he was sure it was glowing in the light of the other man’s torch. This couldn’t be real, he felt sure of it. Things like this only happened in dreams, and dreams were stupid and didn’t count. There must be an age gap between them of at least ten years. Light had caught older men loitering outside his school frequently, leering at the girls as they passed. He had felt pure disdain for them. Now, a stranger - a criminal - was eyeing him up in the same manner, with a look that should be reserved for women. It should be humiliating. It _was_ humiliating, and it had him rising up inside his pyjama bottoms. _Jesus._

 

He knew what this man expected of him. He knew he absolutely couldn’t do it. An ocean of darkness surrounded them on all sides, but that didn’t mean they were alone. The corridor could be filled with eyes, easily picking out the pair of them in their circle of light. Maybe the man had tipped off his roommate. Maybe this was a set-up. Perhaps Light was facing a row of criminals, pressed to the bars of their cells, invisible to him while this man coaxed him out of his clothes and then - and then -

 

The man’s lovely mouth curled. He slid his thumbs into his waistband. Light could see the hollows there, the hints of defined hip bones under the fabric. The man’s stare was piercing, a demand for Light not to disappoint him. He eased his pyjamas pants down, one inch, another.

 

Light scrabbled for the hem of his shirt. This was so fucking stupid, he knew it was, fear was ticking through his blood at the thought of being seen, but this was a kind of mutually assured destruction, surely? He got the shirt off, and even managed to slow down and put on a bit of a show as it came over his head, arching his spine and displaying the muscles built up in his arms from tennis. When his shirt hit the ground, the man’s pyjamas were down to his thighs and his gorgeous hand was fisted around his cock.

 

Light’s mouth was dry. His balls felt heavy enough to burst. He gripped the bars in front of him, leaned on them and stared, terrified of blinking and missing a fragment of what was spooling out before him.

 

The man gave a couple of perfunctory strokes. He tilted his head up, letting Light see his eyes were cold, unimpressed. He stopped touching himself and gave a little shrug towards Light. _Make this worth my while._

 

There was nothing for it. Light couldn’t tell any more if he even minded. He had to first unhook the waistband of his pyjama pants from his erection, which was more embarrassing than it should have been, given their equally compromised positions. Then he was pushing his pants down his bare legs and they were dropping to the floor like nothing, like all of this was nothing. It felt silly to stand there naked apart from his prison regulation shoes, so he stepped out of them too and stood on the bare floor. It was still cold and dirty. Light let the chill seep in, imagined the patina of grime on his skin. Only on the soles of his feet. Not where anyone could see.

 

The man leaned his forehead on the bars. His beautiful fingers curled around them, too. The other hand caressed his stomach on the way down, and then made a tight ring around his dick. He smiled at Light like a king who was pleased with the way his orders had been followed. Then his fist and his hips were moving and Light’s brain short-circuited.

 

It should not be possible for a man to look beautiful jacking off. Light’s fists clenched around the bars of his cell. He needed to hold onto something, because he would not touch himself in front of this stranger, he may have breezed over every line up to this point with a terrifying ease, but not this one. His body burned and his hips wanted to squirm in the night air. Thoughts Light had refused to entertain, that had filled him with queasiness whenever his mind skirted them, roared to life and overloaded him with dark, grasping imagery. His eyes glued themselves to the other man’s pelvis as it thrust evenly into his own hand. He moaned softly. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck.

 

The long-haired man’s face grew pinched with pleasure. His lips parted, shiny and pink in the torchlight as he stroked himself harder, faster, strands of midnight-black hair sticking to his forehead. His body twisted, arched, and then he was mouthing unknown words and spattering out come onto the ground outside his cell.

 

Light’s entire body rung like a struck bell. He gasped silently while the man across from him rubbed his deflating hard-on a few more times. The man’s chest heaved, but slower with each breath, like this was a hobby of his and he was practiced at coming down. His lovely face relaxed as though he’d just put down a great weight.

 

Light regained the ability to move all at once. He ducked down and snatched his clothes up off the floor, threw them back on with fumbling fingers and fled to his bed. He lay with the covers flung over his head, breaths trembling out of him and making the air under the blanket warm and stale. After a few endless seconds, the light from the other cell clicked off.

 

Light lay on his side in the dark. The enormity of what had just happened welled inside him, preventing intelligent thought. His erection was almost flat to his stomach, throbbing with the beat of his pulse. Light curled around it in desperation, hips rocking against nothing. His ears were full of his own breaths and pounding heartbeat as he kicked his pyjama pants off for the second time and jerked a shamefully fast, sticky climax into the scratchy bedsheet.

  
He had barely stopped coming when he tumbled back into sleep.


End file.
